Chapter 9
Before returning home for the night, Oswald limped up the stairs to the bedroom you were occupying. Most of the Avengers had retired for the evening, so he was going to use the opportunity to spend a few moments alone with you. He crept into your room quietly, even though you were unconscious instead of asleep. Cautiously, he sat on the edge of your bed and stared down at you. He moved to take ahold of your hand, but hesitated and pulled back at the last moment.
"She wouldn't mind," a feminine voice said from somewhere in the darkness, startling him to attention. His bright blue eyes surveyed the area before landing on the chair near the window. Even in the barely illuminated room, he could make out a pair of long legs, one crossed over the other. He blinked several times after she reached over and turned on the lamp.
"Ms. Romanoff," he began. "I didn't realize anyone else was here."
Out of all of the Avengers, the Black Widow was the one he was most wary of. Perhaps, it was because she was the one most like himself. The others had boundaries. He sensed that she did not.
"I couldn't sleep," she replied simply.
Oswald looked from her to you and then said, "The two of you are very close."
He didn't make it a question, but also didn't give it the finality of a statement. He hoped she might elaborate.
"Yes."
Several silent moments passed before she fulfilled his desire.
"Before I joined SHIELD, I didn't have anybody. Then, I met Clint....and her....now I have a family."
"What is she like?" Oswald asked. He took his eyes off of your face long enough to see Natasha's confused expression. "I mean, what is she REALLY like? Most of what I knew about her was a lie. I suppose I worry that the best parts were too."
"Some things you can't fake," she said quietly. "As for the rest, you should find that out for yourself when she wakes up."
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"Guys!" Natasha yelled as she ran out of your bedroom. "Guys! Get up!"
Seconds later, there were Avengers popping their heads out of every room on the hall.
"She's awake."
"How are you feeling?" Steve asked as he gently caressed your cheek.
"Not going to lie to you, Cap, I feel pretty awful."
Your eyes scanned the faces in front of you.
"Hey, Tony. It's good to see you."
"Right back at ya, kid," he replied. You noticed that his eyes appeared to be slightly moist.
"Why am I here instead of at the hospital?" you asked.
The team looked from one to the other. They hadn't yet decided how to break the news to you that you had actually died.
"What's the last thing you remember?" Clint asked.
"Getting shot....and a few minutes after that."
"It's a long story," Natasha interrupted. "We'll tell you about it later. Someone should call Cobblepot. I promised him we would."
"How long have I been out that you had time to warm up to Penguin?" you joked.
"We owe him a lot," she replied cryptically.
"I'll do it," Wanda volunteered.
The next question you asked surprised everyone.
"Where's Edward?"
"Who?" Tony said.
"No one has seen him since we were at the hospital," Natasha answered.
"That's not like Ed. I thought he would have been here," you said quietly. You were having a hard time keeping your eyes open.
"You rest and don't worry about that," Clint said. "We're all here."
"Alright, partner. Whatever you say."
"Your listening to me for a change might be worth you getting shot," Clint joked, touching you on top of the covers as he walked past.
"Don't get used to it," you said just before drifting back to sleep.
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"Hello, y/n, my dear," you heard Penguin's voice say from the vicinity of your doorway.
"Hey, Oswald," you replied, turning your head in that direction so you could see him. He seemed to have stalled in that spot.
"Are you going to come in?" you asked eventually.
"Of course."
He limped over to you and stood awkwardly beside the bed.
"How are you feeling?"
"Considering I was dead not too long ago, I guess I can't complain."
He laughed, but it was an odd, strangled sound.
"Thank you, by the way, for everything you did," you began. "I mean, I know Tony insisted on paying for it, but it still wouldn't have been possible without you. You could have left me dead."
"I would never have done that," he spoke up.
"I guess I owe you one now."
"Of course not. You saved my life, and I simply returned the favor."
"There's a big difference between knocking someone out of the way of a bullet and bringing a person back from the dead. I'm indebted to you, Oswald."
Before he could say anything in response, you noticed that he'd had one of his hands behind his back the entire time so you asked, "What have you got?"
"Oh! I almost forgot."
He pulled a bouquet of flowers out from behind him.
"They're for you. I didn't know what kind you liked, or if you even like flowers at all-"
"They're beautiful. Thank you," you said, interrupting him.
He had the slightest tinge of pink to his cheeks. It was funny. You didn't think you'd ever seen him blush before.
"Sit down," you said, patting the bed.
Laying the flowers down on the nightstand, he maneuvered himself into a sitting position beside you.
"Have you heard from Edward?" you asked.
For a moment, it seemed as if the question had taken him off guard. He looked startled.
"No, I haven't," he answered, recovering quickly.
"I just wondered. It's strange that he isn't here."
"Well, you know Edward. It's not like he's entirely stable, after all."
"True, but I'm just worried that something may be wrong. You'd think he'd be here. He killed a man for me. Now, he doesn't even check on me. It doesn't feel right."
Oswald argued with himself internally about what he should tell you. Too much information could get Edward, and possibly himself, into deeper trouble than he wanted. Too little would make you curious, which could lead you to the truth.
"Perhaps," Oswald began, "he doesn't care for you as he once did. I know for a fact he was very angry about seeing how you were with your teammate down at the warehouse."
"Maybe....I have to admit, I haven't been very good to Edward, or you, for the past few years. I was so angry with him for what he did. But, maybe I shouldn't have been. Maybe it wasn't all his fault. Like you said, he isn't exactly stable. I guess I should have noticed sooner. I could have prevented it. Everything could have been different."
Oswald didn't like where this conversation seemed to be going. Here he was visiting you, bringing you flowers, and yet the two of you were still talking about Ed.
He had just decided to let a little "slip" about Edward shooting you come out of his mouth when you said, "It's funny. Of all the things that could have changed how he felt about me, it was Clint."
"Why is that funny?"
"Clint is married with three kids."
"What?" he asked. He must not have heard you right.
"Yeah, it's a big secret outside of the team so don't say anything. We've worked together for years and he's one of my best friends, but if Edward was worried about me being romantically involved with a teammate, he definitely picked the wrong guy."
Oswald stared at your face so hard that you started to feel uncomfortable.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" you asked finally.
He shook his head and then gave you a large smile.
"It's nothing! I'm just so glad you're alright!"
Relaxing, you took ahold of his hand and said, "It's all thanks to you. How am I ever going to repay you?"
"We'll think of something," he joked playfully as you entwined your fingers with his.
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As you lay propped up in bed, you laughed while eavesdropping on the same argument you'd heard everyday since you came to. Alfred insisted that he should bring you your food and tend to your other needs for as long as you were a guest in Wayne Manor. On the other hand, Steve insisted that Alfred already had enough work to do, and that they could handle your care just fine. You'd decided that it had to be the most civil and polite argument on record.
"At it again, are we boys?" you asked when they both came into the room.
"I know you mean well, Captain Rogers. But, the care and wellbeing of this estate and the people in it is my charge, and I take great pride in it. I am not so old and feeble yet that I require anyone's assistance."
"I'm not suggesting that you do. I just don't want us to be a burden."
You were beginning to think the two old veterans just enjoyed this back and forth.
"May I have my lunch before you start round two?" you asked.
"Of course you can, miss," Alfred said, placing your tray on your lap.
You glanced over at Steve who looked slightly put out about not being needed and said, "Steve, I can't reach the remote. Do you mind turning the TV on?"
"Of course not," he said, brightening up some.
"You can just put it on the local news. I'm only going to half watch it anyway."
"I will return later for your tray, unless someone insists on interfering with my duties once again," Alfred said before leaving the room.
"I think you made him mad," you told Steve after he'd sat down in the chair beside you.
"I hope not. But, he's just so stubborn."
"Sounds like somebody else I know," you said quietly, eyeing him out of the corner of your eye.
"That's the third bank robbery in the last couple of weeks," Steve said, directing your attention to the TV.
"Is that all? This is Gotham. I'm surprised they don't have one every day."
"Maybe we should look into it," he offered.
"What do we know about solving bank robberies? We aren't detectives."
"Yeah, but I don't know if the cops are going to be able to solve it either. They don't leave any evidence behind, except for the riddles."
You dropped your fork loudly on the plate.
"Are you okay?" Steve asked, swiveling around in his chair to check on you.
"Yeah, just dropped my fork," you half lied.
After a few moments, you asked, "What riddles?"
"I don't know. The news didn't give out many details. Just that they leave riddles behind....and these big, green question marks spray painted on the walls."
You chewed your food thoughtfully while you pondered how to word your next question in a way that wouldn't sound suspicious.
"That day at the hospital, was Edward around when Penguin started talking about Hugo Strange?"
"Let me think," Steve began. "I wasn't exactly focused on him, you know. Um, I think he had left by then."
"So it's possible he didn't know about any of this?"
"I guess. I kind of assumed Penguin would tell him though. They're friends, right?"
"Yeah."
"Why do you ask?"
"No reason, just something Penguin said when he visited."
If Steve suspected anything was wrong, he didn't get a chance to say it.
"I got you something," Natasha said as she entered the bedroom.
"What is it?" you asked.
"Open it and find out."
She handed you a small box that appeared to be from a jewelry store. When you opened it, you looked at the contents in confusion.
"It's a smashed up bullet on a chain," you said.
"It's your bullet. The one that....I swiped it from the hospital."
"Why?" Steve asked. The expression of horror on his face showed what he thought about it.
"I had to make sure....that it wasn't mine....that I didn't...."
"Oh, Natasha," you said, reaching towards her. "This is the most beautifully morbid gift I've ever received. Thank you."
Steve shook his head while the two of you hugged.
"I don't get it. If you're done with your tray, I'll take it downstairs."
"I think I'll nibble a little bit more," you said, even though the tray was practically empty.
"You're siding with him, aren't you?"
You laughed at him and said, "I promise I'll find you plenty to do. But if bringing me food and new blankets makes Alfred happy, then let him have it."
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Late that night, when you were sure everyone was asleep, you got out of bed and began trying to dress yourself. You still had orders to be on bed rest, and the movements were painful, but there was something you just had to do. After finally winning the fight against your clothes, you slipped out the door and down the stairs as quietly as you possibly could. If any of your teammates caught you, they'd carry you back to bed and not leave you unsupervised again until you were fully healed.
You had almost made it, all you had to do was get a set of car keys and hurry to the garage, when you heard an English accented voice behind you.
"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"
"Shh!" you whispered, whipping around to face him. "You'll wake them!"
"As I ought to. What are you doing sneaking around in the middle of the night?"
"I was hungry," you tried to lie. It was obvious from his expression that Alfred didn't believe you in the slightest.
"And you felt a trip to the kitchen required a jacket and boots, eh? I ought to toss you over my shoulder and take you straight back to bed."
He was being so loud. You just wanted him to quiet down some.
"Can we discuss this in private?" you asked. "Please?"
He sighed before taking ahold of your arm and leading you to the kitchen. Once there, he simply said, "Explain." Thankfully, at an indoors appropriate volume.
"It's Edward. I think he's the bank robber on the news."
"Call Gordon then."
"I can't do that. It wouldn't help anything at all."
"Of course it would. A criminal would be off the streets."
"Alfred, the last time Edward went off the rails, it was because of me. I think this time might be too. I don't think he knows I'm alive. I don't know what that has to do with this, but I feel it's connected somehow."
Alfred didn't look convinced so you continued.
"One time, Sam told Steve that 'There's the kind you save, and the kind you stop.' Now, maybe Edward is just the kind you stop. But, what would I be if I didn't at least try to save him?"
"Do you know where he is?" he asked.
"No, but I have an idea."
"I can't let you go," Alfred said, causing your heart to drop. "At least, not alone."
"None of them will ever go for this," you said.
"I wasn't talking about them," he said, grabbing a set of car keys and handing them to you. "Are you strong enough to meet me at the garage?"
"Yes."
"I'll be there in five minutes. Do not leave without me."
"I won't."